Not a Night
by Morrigan Moon-Witch Inimitable
Summary: Not a night went by when she didn't think of him...


Not a night went by when she didn't dream of him. In the wanderings of her subconscious she found him, waiting as always. Voices filled the court room, to either side she could hear the rustling of clothes as girls shuffled nervously in their seats. Her fingers gripped the hard wood beneath her. After all their planning things were starting to go wrong. Then he caught her eye and nothing seemed to matter anymore, it was as if the girls, the court, the whole word vanished but for him. For such a long time she had waited for this, dreamed that this moment would could but now it was all going horribly wrong. Inside she pleaded for him to stop, to take back his scathing denouncement, but her silent pleas stayed so. Oh why wouldn't he stop saying those things? Why were those hateful words pouring from his mouth, why did he wish to hurt her so? But still the words came.

"It is a whore…" He turned to face the girl that had cost him so much, one look into his eyes was enough to quell the fire that raged inside her once and for all, and she knew had lost him forever…

She woke in a sweat, crying out his name as she crossed back into consciousness. Her breath came rapidly and her head was pounding, distantly she could hear a noise, a muffled cry. Still reeling from her dream she slowly sat. Every night it was the same, the same dreaded dream from which she could never wake. Sometimes it was worse, mostly she just saw the court, but other times she would envisage him on the scaffold, lifelessly hanging there. She had fled thinking he would be pardoned, some days she had even held hope that one day she could return and find him waiting. However a few months later the word of the final hangings came to Boston and she realized what she had truly done. Some days she blessed the fact she hadn't been there, but mostly it was a curse. During the accursed night her imagination would run wild, picturing his face, once so handsome, changing as the rope tightened about his neck. Watching as a cloud descend upon his face. Two years had now passed yet she was still not afforded one night of peaceful slumber.

The soft cries became louder, more insistent. She crawled to the edge of her bed and peered into the crib that was placed nearby. There, crying softly was a baby, her baby. His little face was scrunched up, tears staining his milky cheeks, as if some evil demon was also visiting him. She wanted to help him, chase away his night terrors, but the memory of her own dream held her back. For several moments she sat there watching him, the soft light of the moon illuminating his delicate features. Abigail moved cautiously closer and gazed down onto her baby's face. His blue eyes were open wide and darting around the room, examining the shadows that the moonlight made upon the walls. His tiny hands were reaching up in an attempt to grab the mystical shapes. She let out an inadvertent smile; he looked so comical trying to grab the intangible silhouettes. Guardedly she moved to pick him up, as she lifted him he let out a sudden noise of complaint and immediately she froze. Her heart pounded as she waited for him to scream, to protest against her like so many others had done. Images ran through her mind, girls shouting and screaming made up tales. But the scream never came; he merely flapped his hands about and made a gurgling sound. She held him carefully, as though afraid that he would break if she pressed him too close. Returning to sit on the hard wooden bed she looked around the tiny room. The walls still held the stains of the seasonal downpours and the floors bore the mark of many a past visitor, worn and scratched it was barely fit for human habitation. Yet it was the best she could do, the money she had taken had long since gone and Mercy with it. When she was working it was easy enough to find board in a house of her profession, but since the baby had come it was no longer an attainable option.

She looked down at her tiny sons' face, smiling and murmuring away he no longer held any sign of sorrow; it was all a long forgotten fantasy. She wished that she too could have such blissful release from her thoughts. When she was young she remembered boasting to her friends that one day should would leave Salem and make her way in the world. Well she certainly out of Salem and she definitely had made a name for herself. It seamed no matter where she went she encountered judging stares and vicious barely concealed whispers. When they had left that horrid town, she had convinced Mercy they were lucky to be leaving and escaping punishment. Oh how little had she known then, the worst punishment possible is not death, nor shaming, no, the worst punishment was none, to never have to pay for one's sin except in your own mind. It was a punishment that would last as long as she drew breath, or maybe even longer. Never would her mind allow her the blissful rest of an innocent child's fancy.

A silent tear slid down her face.

Oblivious to his mothers torment, the child waved his hand enthusiastically at the cracked window pain. There just peaking over the tops of the hills rose the sun, its' golden warmth transforming the ominous pool of black of night into a pastel blue sea. She closed her eyes and let the light now flooding into the room warm her chilled body. The child in her arms babbled and squirmed, obviously trying to convey some unknown message to his mother. She smiled down on him; she had never done anything good enough to warrant such a treasure. Yet here he was happily chatting away in her arms.

"Oh my love, I hope you never have to know of the things I have done, and that you shall never endure such hardships." She whispered softly and gazed out of the window upon the world which now that it was brighter seamed bearable. For now she knew, that as dreadful as the nights may be, they are always followed by a glorious sunrise and the promise of a new day.

"I have failed you before, but things will get better, I have been given a second chance in you. I promise you this John, I won't waste this chance, I swear it."

But whether she was talking to her infant son or the man she once loved only she knew.


End file.
